


On Non-Answers, And The Leading Questions That Precede Them

by LandOfMistAndSecrets



Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: Drinking, Flirting, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-05 04:14:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15856008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LandOfMistAndSecrets/pseuds/LandOfMistAndSecrets
Summary: Cyrus has stories, Alfyn has questions, and Therion has just a little bit of baggage.





	On Non-Answers, And The Leading Questions That Precede Them

"And would you believe," Cyrus was saying, gesturing with his mug, "she left a single glass rose in a vase on my desk?" 

"No," Alfyn gasped, leaning forward like it was the most interesting thing he'd ever heard. 

Cyrus nodded, took a generous sip of his drink, and threw one arm out wide. Therion snorted softly to himself. The professor was always so godsdamned theatric. Prim would have been proud. "I swear on my life, it was the most exquisitely crafted thing I had ever seen, at least at the time. Bad enough they all left gifts to begin with, but this! It must have taken years of practice to hone the skill required to blow the glass into such an intricate design. And the colors spun into the glass -- Alfyn, I wish you could see it. My paltry description doesn't do it any justice at all." 

"Sounds like a mighty fine gift for a mighty fine teacher," Alfyn said, but Cyrus was already shaking his head. 

"It was far too lavish. I would have sent it back, but the girl was a transfer from Noblecourt, and I was terrified to send the thing by post. I couldn't bear the thought of it breaking. And, seeing as how it was only my first year teaching, I could hardly drop off on such a relatively frivolous trip whenever I liked, and I just never found the time..." 

"So, you still have it, then?" 

"Indeed, I do. It sits in that same vase even still, on a shelf in my office." Another pause, another sip. "I've collected a number of such things over the years, but that remains one of the finest." 

"Funny how they wait until the class is _over_ to start showering you in gifts," Alfyn said. "If I were them, I'd slip a few in, oh, let's say right before exams..." 

"Hah! Well, yes. A fair number of them have tried that, too." Cyrus let out a sigh worthy of the stage, then looked down morosely into his cup. "Those, I do return. Immediately. I can't have even the shadow of potential accusations of bribery following me if I'm to maintain a trustworthy reputation... ha, but I suppose even for all my caution, it didn't matter in the end." 

"Right," Alfyn laughed, lifting his drink. "Here's to _long sabbaticals_ , eh?" 

"Here, here," Cyrus said, and their drinks clinked together over the table. Therion rolled his eyes. Neither of them noticed. They drained the drinks in tandem and set down the empty mugs, Cyrus with a satisfied sigh, Alfyn with a follow up belch. The smell of half digested onions hit Therion roughly three seconds later. He wrinkled his nose and kicked Alfyn under the table. Alfyn jumped and turned to glare at him, but before he could say anything, Cyrus was already talking again. 

"Gods, what's the time, anyhow? I really shouldn't have another." 

"Are ya sure? We all know Therion can afford it, right, Therion?" Alfyn looked over at him and winked. Therion crossed his arms. 

"Who the hell said I was paying the tab, tonight?" 

"Well, considering you're probably the only one of us who can, I thought it was just a -- what do you call it, Cyrus, an implicit conclusion?" 

Cyrus laughed, and gestured for the barkeep. "Yes, very good! But in this case, I'm afraid your theory is off the mark. No worries, Therion -- I can handle the tab." 

"You can?" Alfyn blinked. 

"Yeah, Alfyn, it's almost like you're the only one around here with a habit of spending money you don't have." 

"Gods," Alfyn tilted his head at him, grinning. Therion dropped his eyes fast. All his winking and grinning and good natured buddy pal nonsense had an annoying habit of making him think like an idiot. "You sound a whole lot like Zeph, sometimes. Words wise, anyhow. I don't think I ever heard him sound half as annoyed as you are on the daily." 

"I find that hard to believe, considering he apparently spent so much time with you." 

"Here now," Cyrus said, waving to get their attention. "I'm for bed, personally, but I'll leave this open if the two of you would like to go on drinking and squabbling into the small hours of the night. Just try not to let it come to open blows, will you?" 

"We're not squabbling," Therion muttered, but his protest was drowned out entirely by Alfyn's answering, all too excited clap. 

"Well!" He threw an arm around Cyrus, jovial as anything. "That's mighty kind of you, professor!" 

"It's the least I can do, seeing as how you were kind enough to listen to me talk for half the evening, hm?" Cyrus didn't seem quite sure what to do with the arm around his shoulders. Eventually, he reached over and landed a few awkward pats on Alfyn's back. Therion resisted the urge to squirm with secondhand embarrassment in his seat, but only just barely. 

"Aw, it was no trouble at all! My pleasure, really. You go on then and have a good sleep, now!" Alfyn gave him one last pat -- hard enough to stagger the man, slightly, Therion noted with some amusement. Cyrus nodded and waved a farewell, his ridiculous shortcape swirling as he made his exit. 

Which left him alone with Alfyn. A fairly common situation, lately. Therion pointedly looked away from him, lifting his mug like a shield between him and Alfyn's incessant need to engage in banal conversation. 

It didn't work. It never did. 

"How about that, huh? Mighty kind of him to cover us for the night, wasn't it, Therion?" Alfyn was already calling for a refill, gesturing happily at the barkeep, pleased as can be. He could really put them away, which struck Therion as inconvenient -- wasn't the point of drinking to get drunk, at some point? A tolerance like Alfyn's apparently was, no wonder he never had any damn money. 

"I guess," he mumbled. 

"Wouldn't that be some life, though? Gosh, just think about it. University tenure, doing what you love, teaching kids and doing all the research you wanted in your spare time. Atlasdam, too, I mean, if you're going to get attached to a place, that's a mighty fine choice! You'd never run out of things to do, I bet. Shucks, there are probably books on medicine in there I'd kill to see." 

"Seems counterproductive," Therion said without thinking. It just popped out. Alfyn blinked at him, and then broke out into a sunny laugh, slapping the table. 

"I didn't mean it _literally_ , you goof," he said. Therion felt his face go a little warm, and he pulled his scarf up higher to hide whatever stupid expression he was possibly making. Gods damn Alfyn and his careless charm. It was unfair. And worse, when it came to his own appeal, he seemed to be just about as naive as Cyrus, which was to say -- extremely so. 

"Obviously," he said, in the most offputting, sullen tone he possibly could. He hunched his shoulders and tried to give off the most powerful _don't talk to me_ aura he could, but Alfyn was absolutely undeterrable. 

"So if you had access to the whole Atlasdam library all the time, what would you pick to read up on?" 

Therion took a deep breath, twisted his face into the most withering glare he could, and looked up. Alfyn met his gaze with wide eyes and a dazzling smile, head tilted like his potential answer to the question was the most interesting thing in the world at that moment. Gods, no wonder he was so damn good at getting people to talk. He could blindside just about anyone would that expression and have them eating out of his hand five minutes later. 

"What?" Alfyn said, his smile faltering, just slightly. "What's that look for, now, what'd I say?" 

"Look," Therion spoke slowly, as clearly as he could. "You might be able to pull life stories and private goals and personal aspirations out of Cyrus and everyone else, but not me. My life isn't a fun series of interesting stories for you to page through at your leisure, okay? Go bother someone else." 

"Oh," Alfyn blinked, and his distractingly inviting expression evaporated, replaced with something almost like worry. He chewed his lip. "I don't mean to be a bother," he assured him. "The last thing I want to do is make you or anyone uncomfortable. Zeph always did warn me about spending too much time chatting and not enough working." A rueful chuckle. "I guess without him here to hold me back I just kind of give in to it. Anyway -- look, I'm doing it again! You don't have to answer." The smile crept back in, slow and cautious, like the noon high sun after a morning of rain. 

Therion looked away, quickly. His face still felt too hot. Damn it. He grunted something that could be interpreted as acceptance, and went back to drinking in silence. 

This would have been fine, except he could _feel_ Alfyn's eyes on him. Why didn't he just go chat up someone else? He loved to talk. He liked people. He could hit it off with a stranger and be reminiscing with them like old friends in minutes. He didn't _have_ to just sit there in total silence, studying him like some kind of puzzle to be solved. 

A little voice at the back of his head told him that he could go whenever he wanted, too. So why didn't he? 

He pushed it away. 

"Didn't anyone ever tell you that staring is rude?" 

"Oh -- was I? I, wow. I guess I was, huh?" Alfyn sunk down into his chair a bit, his expression going outright sheepish, and raised a hand to scratch the back of his neck. "I'm making a real hash out of this, aren't I?" 

Therion frowned. "Out of what?" 

"I don't know, just, this! Cyrus leaves us an open tab and the night's barely begun, and you're probably the guy I'd like to get to know the most out of everyone, and here I am just annoying you left and right." Alfyn shook his head, muttered something Therion couldn't quite catch, and then took a long gulp of mead. Therion watched him drink, running the words back through his head, a distracting and frankly embarrassing little flutter going through him. 

"Why?" he said, finally. Alfyn glanced at him, brows up. 

"Why what?" 

"Why would _I_ be the guy you'd... that shit you just said. Why me?" 

"Oh, that?" Alfyn dropped his eyes and lifted his shoulders in an exaggerated shrug. "Just how it is, I guess?" 

"No, but -- Oh, come on. That's not an answer." 

"What do you want me to say?" 

Therion narrowed his eyes at him. Alfyn's cheeks had gone a little pinker than usual, which might have been the drink, but somehow, he didn't think so. Or was that just wishful thinking? 

_Wishful thinking._ He gave himself a mental kick. He was acting like he was fifteen again and had just discovered the inconvenient yet exciting world of physical attraction for the first time. Pathetic. 

"Cyrus and Olberic have way more interesting stories than I do," he said, evenly. Reasonably. "Not to mention any of the women -- except Tressa, I'll grant you that. I've got Tressa beat." 

Alfyn snickered into his mug. "She wouldn't agree with that, I'm sure." 

"Yeah, she's wrong about a lot of things." 

"What about Ophilia? You think the honorable Sister has enough scandalous material from her days tending the Sacred Flame to match your life out there, wanderin' and thievin' as you please?" 

Therion blinked. "Okay," he said, begrudging. "I might have Ophilia beat, too. Fine. That still leaves you plenty of better options." 

"Therion," Alfyn said, and something about the way his name sounded coming out of his mouth made his stomach do another horrible, treacherous little backflip. Gods damn it. "You do realize you're kind of a _legend_ , right?" 

"Ah, so that's it. You're just anxious to see if the stories you've _already_ heard are true, or not." 

"Well..." 

"Well, I don't want to hear a rehash of any of that shit, it's embarrassing. So, pass." 

"Embarrassing?" Alfyn's brows shot up. "You think being a folk legend of sorts is _embarrassing_? Why? You just can't handle people talkin' about ya?" 

"They get everything wrong," Therion groaned, waving him off. "So I guess that's your answer. And no, I won't elaborate." 

"Hmm." 

Therion settled back down into his scarf, adjusting it carefully around his shoulders. Alfyn was staring at him, again. He had no manners whatsoever, and he was used to getting away with it, thanks to his sheer and frankly unfair amount of _charm._

" _Alfyn,_ " he snapped, when he couldn't take it anymore. Eyes on him made him itch, let alone a stare that intense. Alfyn's eyes widened. 

"Oh jeez, I was doing it again," he said. "Sorry! Sorry. It's just, you know... it's not really about the stories, exactly. Or your history, or any of that." 

"Really." 

"Nah. I just like to get to know people. So when I ask you what you'd study if you had access to all the rarest books in Orsterra, it's just because I'm curious! How a person answers that sort of question can tell you a lot about 'em." 

"Well, I don't need anyone analyzing me based on my answers to stupid hypotheticals, so that's still a pass." 

"All right, well, what if I said there was one way you've got everyone else beat, and that one thing is the biggest reason why I always want to sit beside you and yammer on and on and try to get you to say a few words, now and then?" 

Therion shot him a suspicious look. "I'm listening." 

"Out of all our fine companions..." Alfyn paused, then lifted a finger and brought his mug up, drinking the rest of it down in big, noisy gulps. Therion snorted at him. He'd had the better part of the mug left. How he could drink like that without toppling over, he had no idea. "-- Out of all of them, you're by far the cutest." 

Therion flinched away from him. For a second, he wasn't sure he'd heard right. Then he got a good look at his face -- a little fearful, a little hopeful, and _definitely_ blushing. 

"The cutest," he repeated, voice devoid of any inflection whatsoever. Alfyn pushed the empty mug back and gestured for a refill. 

"That's what I said!" 

"So," Therion said, slowly, "Your ultimate goal here is to chat me upstairs, is that it?" 

"I mean!" Alfyn's face went from pink to red, and it was actually gratifying, watching him suffer like this for once between them. "Not -- not right away, or nothing, I'm -- hey! I'm not that sort of guy!" He actually did seem a bit affronted. Therion bit back a laugh, holding his breath until the urge passed. What the fuck was he doing? Was he flirting, right now?

"You say that like being that sort of guy is a bad thing." 

Fuck. He definitely was. Alfyn seemed to catch on, then, because he sat up a little straighter and shot him a sly look.

"Are you that sort of guy, Therion?" 

Therion shrugged. "It's happened, once or twice." 

"Ooh, shucks, careful now. You wouldn't want to let on too much about your secret backstory." 

Therion kicked him, again. Alfyn leaned forward and rested his chin in his hands, eyes twinkling. Therion rolled his eyes, crossed his arms, and looked up at the ceiling like he was entreating the Gods themselves for guidance. 

No answer, like usual. 

"I'm going to tell Tressa you don't think she's the cutest," he decided. 

Alfyn gasped. "Don't you dare!" 

"Nope, I've already decided. I'm going to get you into the most trouble I possibly can." 

"Between you and me, I think you've already succeeded in getting me into a whole lot of trouble, here! Look at this! I'm sweating like you wouldn't believe, and I realize I probably shouldn't tell you that given what I'm trying to accomplish, right now, but --" 

"Yeah, you should probably shut up," Therion cut him off, biting his lip to keep from laughing. Okay. This was too much. This was idiotic. This was -- he couldn't just cut and run with this guy, they all knew where he was going, and besides, Prim and H'aanit and her damnable sleuth of a hell cat would track him down even if they hadn't. He couldn't actually get involved with this. He wasn't made for this sort of thing. Alfyn would want something _ongoing_ , something long term, something... something Therion could absolutely never give anyone. It was out of the question. 

"That look on your face," Alfyn said, and then he sighed, and Therion reigned his expression in as quickly as he could, though it was obviously too late. "You can say no, you know? No hard feelings at all. I just wanted, I guess, to put it out there and explain myself, instead of lettin' you go on assuming whatever uncharitable things about my interest you were thinking up on your own, so..." 

Therion held up a hand. Alfyn snapped his mouth shut. "What a surprise that you babble when you're nervous." 

"Yeah." A breathy laugh. "Guess I do." 

"Anyway, I'm not going to say no." 

"You're not?" Alfyn brightened visibly, sitting up straighter, while Therion did the opposite, hunching down, making himself as small as possible. 

"I'm not saying yes, either, mind you." In fact, he had no idea what the fuck he was doing, but Alfyn didn't need to know that. 

"Well, that's... just fine! That's just fine. You take your time and think about it, huh? I... hah, I'll try my best not to let my nerves kill me before you've got an answer." 

"About those books." 

"Yeah?" 

Therion took a drink, thinking. "I wouldn't read any of them at all." 

"What? Really? All the knowledge in the world, and you wouldn't be interested in _any_ of it?" 

"Nope. I'd chat up the librarians, figure out which one was the most valuable, and then I'd steal it and set up some scheme to sell it back to them." He set his mug back down. "So I guess that tells you pretty much everything you need to know about me." 

Alfyn nodded, slowly. "Interesting how you specify you'd sell it back to _them._ " 

"...What?" 

"Nothing," Alfyn said, but the way he was smiling said otherwise. Therion's insides did a strange, not altogether unpleasant shivering clench sort of thing. "So. Since apparently you're answering my questions, now -- which one of us do _you_ think is the cutest, Therion?" 

This time, he couldn't quite catch the laugh before it fell out of him, startled and muffled by his scarf. He hunched over dramatically and tried to disguise it as a cough, but Alfyn's expression told him he wasn't fooling anyone. 

Clearly, it was going to be a long, ill-advised, and extremely stupid night. _Cheers,_ he thought, while he racked his brain for an answer that was even halfway safe to give.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr: [@sealticge](http://sealticge.tumblr.com)


End file.
